


Treatment

by G-Dragon_Princess (LokiLover84)



Category: Big Bang (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Jimin Doesn't Deserve This, M/M, Name-Calling, Neither Does Jiyong, Rough Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 04:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiLover84/pseuds/G-Dragon_Princess
Summary: Jimin goes every time Jiyong wants him, but maybe there's a healthier option to this damaging relationship.





	Treatment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpoopyPrincessLover13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoopyPrincessLover13/gifts).



The knock came, as it always did, at seven pm sharp. It was another Tuesday night, and Jimin was home, nervously pacing as he clutched his phone in one hand and bit the thumbnail on his other. The phone buzzed in his hand, and he raised it to read the message Namjoon had sent.

 

_ Do whatever, Park Jimin. But don’t expect me to be there every time to pick up the pieces. In the end, it’s your call, and even though I think you’re an absolute idiot, I can’t stop you. _

 

Jimin sighed, feeling tears prick at his eyes. Of his few friends, Jimin had been sure Namjoon would be the one he could confide in, who would understand the turmoil Jimin faced each time the knock sounded. 

 

But then again, Namjoon had a boyfriend, and Taehyung was lightyears from Jiyong. What Namjoon and Taehyung shared was healthy, and had a future. 

 

What he and Jiyong shared was dirty, and, Jimin knew, would never be more than filthy sex. 

 

He turned on his heel and went to the door, exhaling shakily as he opened it to find Jiyong’s stoic driver, whom Jimin had only ever been called Suga, waiting for him as always. 

  
  


“Jimin.”

 

Jiyong’s soft voice sent a thrill through the younger man as he stepped into the nondescript hotel room. It could have been anywhere in the world, and it was never the same room, or the same hotel, twice. 

 

Jimin glanced at the window, the deep reds and purples of the sunset outside a perfect backdrop for Jiyong, and felt his mouth go dry. The older man was dressed only in a dark pair of jeans slung low on his hips, numerous rips revealing the flesh beneath the denim. 

 

Jiyong caught Jimin’s gaze with his dark, almond eyes and Jimin’s own eyes widened when Jiyong stalked toward him. Jimin took an involuntary step backwards, and the older man grinned predatorily before swooping in to claim Jimin’s lips in a bruising kiss. 

 

Jiyong was never gentle with the younger man, but tonight he was in either a bad mood, or just feeling particularly sadistic. Jimin was never able to judge the older man’s mercurial temper, and he’d long since gave up trying. But when he found himself handcuffed to a conveniently shaped headboard, he wondered if Jiyong had chosen this room ahead of time. Jiyong practically purred in pleasure at the sight of Jimin cuffed and almost immobile, his upper half resting on the stark white sheets, his knees tucked under him to hold his ass up like a feast for Jiyong. 

 

The older man slapped the pale, fleshy globes, humming as they turned bright pink, then red. Jimin wriggled, then whined, then jerked with each smack, until he was sobbing and begging Jiyong to stop. Only then did the older man acquiesce, running his fingertips over the warm flesh. 

 

“You look so good like this, Jimin-ah. Such a pretty little slut who will let me do whatever I want to him. Won’t you, Jimin? I only wish all my little whores were as good as you…”

 

Jimin gasped, tears still slipping down his cheeks, but this time they were tears of pain of a deeper sort. He’d never allowed himself to believe that he was the only plaything Jiyong had, but hearing it out loud, paired with calling Jimin all sorts of filthy names, cut Jimin deeper than he’d ever admit. 

 

Jiyong slid his jeans over his slender hips and grabbed a bottle of lube, flicking the cap open with one hand and using the other to spread Jimin’s still flushed asscheeks open. The younger man whimpered at the sensation of being exposed so carelessly, and gasped as the cool liquid was dribbled over his entrance. There was a thud as Jiyong tossed the bottle onto the floor, and Jimin cried out in pain as the older man slid into him with no preparation. 

 

Jiyong moaned as he covered Jimin’s back, his breath warm on the side of the younger man’s neck as his hips snapped forward, fucking Jimin hard. 

 

“Fucking little bitch. You’re always so  _ tight _ for me, Jimin. It’s like your body knows who you belong to. You do, don’t you, Jimin baby? Belong to me?”

 

Jimin shakes his head in denial even as he acknowledges it with the words that drip from his lips, swollen from where he’s bitten them. 

 

“Yes, Jiyong, yes. I’m your little slut, your little bitch. Ah,  _ Jiyong,  _ fuck, h-harder!”

 

Jiyong chuckles darkly as he slams into Jimin, arching off of him to dig his nails into Jimin’s hips, pulling the younger man back onto his cock so hard that the cuffs bite into Jimin’s wrists hard enough to leave bloody bruises that will last at least a week. 

 

Jimin doesn’t care. 

 

At this angle, Jiyong’s cock stabs into his prostate, and Jimin throws his head back, screaming at the stimulation, uncaring if anyone in the hotel hears him. Jiyong laughs loudly, the sounds twining together, and he finally reaches around to wrap his fingers around Jimin’s neglected, weeping cock. It only takes half a dozen strokes and the command for Jimin to come to push the younger man over the edge. His come spurts in warm strings over Jiyong’s fingers, and the clench of his inner walls around Jiyong’s sizeable cock makes the older man moan as he fills Jimin with his own come. 

 

Jimin winces when the older man pulls from his body, uncaring of Jimin’s comfort, barely acknowledging his existence as he dresses quickly. Jimin is spared his look of disdain, bordering on disgust, as he drops wads of money around Jimin’s still frame. 

 

“Til next time, Jimin-ah.”

 

The tone is cold, the words mocking, and Jimin hears the hotel room door open and close. He buries his head in the pillow, but more tears won’t come. 

 

The door opens again, and Jimin hears Suga’s soft sigh as he moves to unlock the handcuffs, helping Jimin to his feet and steadying him until Jimin is confident enough that he can stand on his own. Only then does he move slowly, carefully, to gather his clothes and slip them on. When he’s dressed again, Suga steps past him toward the door, but pauses with his hand on the handle. 

 

“Why do you let him do this to you, Jimin?”

 

Suga’s voice is soft, and there’s a trace of genuine concern in the words, and Jimin bites his lip and blinks furiously. 

 

“The oldest story in the book, Suga. As messed up as it is, I love him.”

 

Suga stares at Jimin for so long that the younger man finally looks up. There’s a flicker of something in the dark depths of the older man’s eyes, but it’s gone so fast Jimin isn’t sure what it is. Suga turns away and opens the door, Jimin following silently behind him. 

 

Namjoon is waiting outside Jimin’s apartment building when Suga pulls the car up to the curb. Jimin can read the concern and anger in the lines of Namjoon’s body, illuminated by an overhead streetlight, before the car even glides to a halt. When Jimin emerges, Namjoon crosses his arms, waiting for Jimin to come to him. But before he can, Suga too slides from the car, rounding the front to momentarily block Jimin from Namjoon’s gaze. Jimin looks up at him in surprise - the chauffeur has never even spoken to Jimin before today, and now he’s not only speaking but invading Jimin’s personal space. 

 

“Take this.”

 

Suga presses something against Jimin’s hand, and he grabs in instinctively. Suga gives him a tight smile then turns and walks away. Jimin watches as the older man slips back into the car and pulls back into traffic. Jimin glances down at the slip of paper, reads the words printed there, and feels torn between throwing it down and grinning at the cheek of the older man. In the end, he slips it into his pocket and turns his attention to Namjoon. 

 

It’s only hours later, after another dressing-down tirade from Namjoon that Jimin retrieves the paper, tapping the numbers into his phone and then typing out a message. 

 

_ You know, maybe it is time I learned how I should be treated. _

 

Jimin has a feeling that the familiar knock will come again next Tuesday, but that the man standing there will take him to a different conclusion. 


End file.
